


A Flower for Her Hair

by cheile (Cheile)



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe, Caesar's Palace Shipping Week, F/M, First Dates, Prompt Fic, Shipper Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 16:29:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11993601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheile/pseuds/cheile
Summary: Seven prepares for an evening with Harry.





	A Flower for Her Hair

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note: Written for [Caesar’s Palace](https://www.fanfiction.net/forum/Caesar-s-Palace/92815/) shipping week (prompt “flamingo”), this is also my first attempt at writing something Seven-centric and K/7-ish. While I mentally consider it part of the "Kathryn's Rainbow" timeline, it can also stand alone.
> 
> Thanks to: Carlyn for the beta lookover, and Mia Cooper for talking me into the dress ;)

**_A Flower for Her Hair_ **

 

Seven gave her reflection—what she could see of it—a critical stare.  Using the reflective surface of the cargo bay console proved an inefficient way to determine if her appearance was suitable.  But it was immediately accessible and she had long ago rejected the suggestions from many of the crew to replicate a mirror for the purpose of inspecting her appearance.  Not even Naomi Wildman could convince her, though Naomi’s imaginative recommendations for additional functions the mirror could provide had proven amusing. 

Then again, worrying about her appearance was immaterial.  She was only going to this “luau” because Harry had asked her to accompany him.  And she could almost guarantee that he would be satisfied with her appearance even if she had chosen to remain in her newly acquired uniform for the occasion.  Unfortunately, “dressing up” for the event was a requirement and so she had been forced to scroll through the replicator database in order to come up with something to wear. 

The plethora of designs available was impractical; thankfully, the captain had happened by the cargo bay in the midst of her “research”.  However, she turned out to be little help.  Janeway pointed out that Seven should “choose her own style” and, while she would be happy to make some suggestions, it was not her place to decide for her.  

Style was also irrelevant, but Seven refrained from saying so in the captain’s presence.  After taking another 1.3 hours of sifting through the vast catalog, her choice ended up being what she determined would be the least offensive to everyone’s senses.  The fabric was black, with a long flared skirt that fell to her knees, and imprinted with large flowers in a shade the computer referred to as “flamingo”.  Her shoes, a pair of low heeled sandals, were plain black.  As much as she disliked the garish blooms, Seven decided the overall design would be the most acceptable since she would not be displaying an excessive amount of flesh. 

The metallic swish of the cargo bay doors and a flash of red drew her attention to Harry’s presence.  His appreciative grin brought a small smile to her face. 

“You look great.” 

“You look pleasing as well.”  She assessed his appearance with an analytical eye:  khaki pants, sandals in a similar shade and a red tunic covered in a pineapple print.  “We do not match,” she added. 

Harry chuckled.  “We don’t have to, Seven.  A luau isn’t a formal party.” 

“But we agreed this was our first public date, did we not?” 

“We did,” he agreed.  “But that doesn’t require that we have matching outfits.  Just that we have fun.” 

Seven suppressed an inward sigh.  Relationship rituals would never cease to confuse her, despite Harry’s flexibility and infinite patience in explaining that one did not have to follow the database details “by the book”.  “Very well,” she acquiesced.  Her attention turned to the small box in his hand.  “Flowers?” 

“Just one.  It’s actually for your hair.”  He opened the box and removed the plumeria bloom, showing her that it was attached to a hairpin; with her consent, he slid the pin carefully into place, positioning the flower slightly behind her right ear.  

The delicate edges of the petals tickled her skin and she didn’t need to look back at the console to know that it enhanced her appearance; the approving light in Harry’s eyes was more than enough. 

“Ready?” 

She smiled again and accepted his arm.

 

***fin***


End file.
